


What Is

by Tadeusz



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 07:37:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4658085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tadeusz/pseuds/Tadeusz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zevran does not regret failing to assassinate the Warden, or killing Taliesin, or any of the choices he made that led to the life he leads now. But that doesn't mean he doesn't miss all that was, or maybe all that could have been. It's a feeling Garlan is familiar with.<br/>A drabble that resulted from a "The urge to overcome melancholy by dancing" prompt over on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Is

Camp seemed quieter without Zevran in the center, his teasing and laughter littering everyone’s conversations.

Garlan found him at the edge of the clearing, examining the dagger he’d taken from Taliesin’s body. “Hello, my Warden,” said Zevran without turning. He patted the spot on the log beside him. It was covered in moss and damp from the recent rains, but Garlan took the offered seat and immediately put an arm around Zevran’s shoulders.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Zevran shook his head. “No. I am - will be - fine. That chapter of my life is done.” Resting his head on Garlan’s shoulder, he touched the earring Garlan now wore on a silver chain about his neck. “I do not regret choosing you.”

Garlan rested his cheek on the top of Zevran’s head. With a calloused but gentle finger, he traced the many fine white scars that lined the back of Zevran’s hand, still closed around the pommel of Taliesin’s dagger. “And I don’t regret meeting you,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t wish things could have been different.”

Crickets and the distant din of camp, punctuated by King’s barking, filled the night around them. An owl hooted nearby, and the grass rustled as a vole dashed to safety. Finally, Zevran said, “Well, I suppose you must wish you didn’t have to tell people that you met the man of your dreams when he tried to kill you for money.”

Despite himself, Garlan chuckled. “You know what I mean, Zev.”

“Yes.” Smile fading, Zevran looked back at the dagger in his hand. The sheath shone dully in the moonlight. He trembled. “I do.” Briefly, he turned his head so his face was buried in Garlan’s shoulder, and Garlan pressed his lips to the top of his head and stroked his hair while Zevran drew a shuddering breath, and then the moment was gone. 

Zevran leapt to his feet. “Come,” he said, extending his arm. “Let’s see if we can’t get a song from Leiliana. Maybe this time you can keep up with me when we dance that silly Ferelden jig of yours.”

Taking the offered hand, Garlan got to his feet and started to head back towards the campfire. Zevran hesitated. “Just… one moment.”

With Garlan in tow, he put some distance between himself and camp. Once he found a particularly lush patch of wildflowers, he laid Taliesin’s dagger amidst them. The flowers, all deep purple and violet and blue in the dim night, concealed it well. Garlan squeezed Zevran’s hand.

Fingers entwined, they made their way back towards dear friends, a feeling that might have been ‘home’, and the sound of Leliana’s lute.


End file.
